You can have Manhattan
by beautiful-mess13
Summary: Inspired by Sara Bareilles' song 'Manhattan'. Malec breakup. Magnus throws Alec out of his apartment, only to realize he wants him back. He sends a letter, not knowing he might be a little too late. I apologize in advance for the ending (don't kill me.) One-shot


**OOC: hey guys! I was so inspired by this song called 'Manhattan' by Sara Bareilles that I wrote a Malec fanfic out of it. I highly suggest you guys give it a listen if you haven't heard of the song before. Also, it would be nice if you listened to the song while reading this. So sorry for what I did at the ending, it just felt like it needed that kind of closure (again, I'm sorry!)**

**Link to the song: watch?v=NlxxSAnK6Do**

_"You can have Manhattan, cause I can't have you."_

Alec took one last sweeping look around the apartment that had once been rightfully his, as well as the owner's—one he considered to be home in the dark days that had plagued him ever since Max died, and now Jace, had gone missing. He didn't want to leave this place, not ever; but as he lay the key gently on the dining room table and walked slowly to the door, turning the knob as quietly as he could and opening it widely enough for him to walk through, he knew it was the last time he was going to set foot in this place.

The last time he'd ever go this way again.

And with that, he finally stepped out, closed the door behind him, and stared out into the black empty space of goodbye.

The person who had spared him many sleepless nights when for all he knew he could've spent them all alone in his lonely bed in his room at the Institute, was asking him to leave. It was such an underrated thing, leaving; he always thought that people who left always found their way back in the end. Not that now he was experiencing it himself. Leaving meant finality, leaving meant one last look. Leaving meant goodbye. Leaving meant going somewhere he can't follow you, and you can't turn back.

In the brisk night air of December, Alec gripped his sides tightly and bowed his head down. It was well past midnight, and the streets were covered in snow. Christmas lights around houses twinkled. The soft bars of Christmas ballads were playing in dingy pubs avenue after avenue. He could feel a coldness that was new to him, one that gripped him on the inside. He thought of him, and his image burned in the back of his mind. He shook his head sadly, wishing there had been another way for it to end. Not like this. The kind of ache he was feeling encompassed anything he had ever felt before, much greater than almost being stabbed to death and reminded him of the way he had felt when he found out that his younger brother had died. It was a kind of pain you can't escape, the kind where there's no hope you could bring comfort to.

All it took was time. Slow and unenduring time.

* * *

Magnus lay down on his side of the bed, the other side of which was still ruefully unmade, and teasingly so. He stared up at the ceiling as he lay down on top of his covers, fully clothed. He had been like this for the past four hours. Not that he noticed the passing of time. He had forgotten to eat, and that also meant forgetting to feed the Chairman, which was nowhere to be found. Out to look for food himself, he reckoned.

He turned his mundane thoughts over dully in his mind—as if it could silence the painful roar that had been raging through his head ever since he said the words and watched him go. Watched him beg. As he refused and shook his head. The Shadowhunter had been right. Magnus Bane resembled his father more than he thought he ever did. And as he felt nothing now, nothing but emptiness, and feeling tired, like he had just run a hundred miles... he wondered where he might be. Now that he had sent him out, where would he go? It's not as if he had another place to come home to. The Institute had burned down. His family had moved to Idris and left him here, in Manhattan. Despite it being the least of his worries, he wondered how Alec would be able to find somewhere else to stay for the night. It must be freezing outside, he thought glumly as he turned to look out the window just in time to see that snow had started to fall. In another lifetime, it would have been a beautiful sight.

He was being stupid really. He didn't want to watch him leave. To Magnus, it was more of a test, to see if Alec would fight. Try to stay. Fight for the two of them. And when he did, the more he wanted to push him away. To prove to himself that he didn't need anyone. But he did. It was the kind of logic that you simply did not understand, even if you had thousands of years to learn.

Before he could stop himself, and to stop the tears from falling, Magnus found himself walking to his study. Pulling his drawer open. A pen and a piece of paper. As he sat down, he realized he wanted to say so many things to him, to make him understand—but words can never be enough. What he had done couldn't be undone. But if he just told him what he felt, at that moment, that he had been wrong, that he couldn't continue life without him...

_I'm sorry. Please come back. Come home to me. Magnus._

* * *

It took Alec a moment to realize that he had been crying. He wiped his face with the back of his hand rigorously, passing by a middle-aged couple holding hands. They looked at him and for a moment Alec was bewildered, but then remembered that he didn't even bother to put on his Glamour. The looks on their faces made Alec feel worse. How they must have pitied him, a boy walking alone in the cold on what could have been a lovely winter evening. If only they knew.

* * *

Magnus finally put his pen down after what felt like forever, only to realize he had only managed to write a few words, so inconsequential that he doubted it would even have an effect on him. But this time it didn't even matter if Alec threw it away. He just wanted to let him know. He folded the paper carefully, sighing as he did so and set it down on the table. With a snap of his fingers he watched the paper disappear, knowing instantaneously that it was now in Alec's pocket. Or at least, it was on its way there.

* * *

Alec found a stone bench on the sidewalk of a neighborhood he had never been to before, but he didn't care. Besides, the streets were deserted. Who knows how long he had been walking through the snow. As he sat down, not knowing how to go from there, he felt his hopes slipping lower. He put his hands in his jacket pockets, hoping to warm them when his right hand came in contact with something smooth. A piece of paper.

He was sure that it hadn't been there before. He took it out, stared at it for a moment, and unfolded it. He almost jumped out of his skin. It was Magnus' handwriting.

And as he read, through and through the short phrase that could have changed everything, he felt disbelieving. He swallowed hard, tears falling even harder than before, and smiled. He was so caught up in Magnus' apology that he didn't even notice that the air had started to smell like rotting garbage.

A demon slowly crept its way behind the stone bench, eyeing Alec's back. It moved slowly, carefully, as if trying not to slip on the ice and cause too much noise. If the demon had a brain, it would have been thinking how lucky it was that his victim was making it so easy. It got closer, until it was towering above Alec; when Alec finally realized that something was wrong he turned, but the demon's pincers were already raised as it struck. Once. Twice. Blood everywhere.

Alec, not even putting up a fight was lying motionless on the stone bench, Magnus' letter still clutched tightly in his right hand. As if it had already sensed that its job was done, the demon sauntered away triumphantly, and Alec's dimming eyes watched as it disappeared.

It was not even cold anymore, Alec thought as he lay there, his own blood pooling around him dripping on the white snow making it shine like rubies. With one last effort he raised his right hand up to his face, happy that something of Magnus' was the last he'd ever see, and struggled to whisper his name.

"Magnus, I love you."

* * *

Somewhere in his reverie, when he was on the verge of falling asleep, Magnus felt someone call his name.


End file.
